Death Note: Another Note-The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases Relight
by GalanDun
Summary: The Death Note prequel, but with a few changes.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a retelling of the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases to fit an idea I had in my head.**

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When Beyond Birthday committed his third murder, he attempted an experiment. Namely, to see if it were possible for a human being to die of internal hemorrhaging without rupturing any organs. Specifically, he drugged his victim so they fell unconscious; tied them up, and proceeded to beat their left arm thoroughly, being careful not to break the skin. He was hoping to bring about enough hemorrhaging to cause death from loss of blood, but this attempt ended, sadly, in failure. Blood congested in the arm and it turned purplish red beneath the skin, but the victim did not die. They simply shook, convulsed, and remained alive. He had been convinced the blood loss incurred by this would be enough to kill someone, hut apparently he had underestimated the matter. As far as Beyond Birthday was concerned, the actual method of murder rated fairly low on the amusement scale, and it was never more than an interesting experiment. It did not particularly matter to him whether it succeeded or not. Beyond Birthday simply shrugged, and took out a knife...  
No, no, no, no, no.  
Not this style, not this narrative voice—I'll never manage to keep up this arch tone all the way through. The harder I try, the more bored I'll get and the lazier the writing will be. To put it in terms Holden Caulfield (one of history's most famous literary bullshitters) might use, detailing what Beyond Birthday did and thought does not suit my purposes (even if, in my position, I have a great deal of sympathy for him). Explaining the entirety of his murders in carefully phrased sentences does not in any way increase the value of these notes. This is not a report, nor is it a novel. Even if it happens to turn into one of those, I will not be happy. I hate to use such a hackneyed line, but I imagine that by the time anyone lays eyes on these words I will no longer be alive.  
I hardly need to remind the reader about the epic battle between the century's greatest detective, L, and that grotesque murderer, Kira. The instrument of death was a little bit more fantastic than a guillotine (for example), but all Kira accomplished was another reign of terror and a pathetically infantile way of thinking. Looking back, I can only surmise that the gods of victory smiled on Kira for their own vain amusement. Perhaps these gods actually wanted a blood-soaked world of betrayal and false accusation. Perhaps the entire episode exists as a lesson to teach us the difference between imaginary human deities and the shinigami. Who knows? I, for one, have no intention of wasting any more time thinking about this most negative series of events.  
To hell with Kira.  
What matters to me is L.  
L.  
The century's greatest detective. In light of his staggering mental abilities, L died an unjust and untimely death. In the public record alone he solved over 3,500 difficult crimes, and sent three times that number of degenerates to prison. He wielded incredible power, was able to mobilize every investigative bureau in the entire world, and was applauded generously for his efforts. And during it all, he never showed his face. I want to record his words as accurately as possible. And I want to leave them for someone to find. As someone who was given the chance to follow in his footsteps. Well, I may not have been able to succeed him, but I want to leave this behind.  
So what you're reading now are my notes about L. It's a dying message, not from me, and not directed at the world. The person who will most likely read this first will probably be that big-headed twit Near. But if that's the case, I will not tell him to shred or burn these pages. If it causes him pain to discover that I knew things about L that he did not, then that's fine. There's also a chance that Kira might read this… and I hope he does. If these notes tell the murderer, who only got by with the help of a supernatural killing notebook and an idiot of a shinigami, that he was, under any other circumstances, not even worth the dirt beneath L's shoes, then they have served their purpose.  
I am one of the few people who ever met L as L. Why I met him is known only to me and the inhabitants of Whammy's House, and is one of the closest guarded secrets in the world. L told me and the others at the orphanage a few stories of his exploits. and the episode involving Beyond Birthday was one of these. If I drop the pretense and simply refer to it as the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, then I imagine many of you will have heard of them. Obviously, it never came to light that L and more importantly, Wammy's House, which raised me until I was fifteen— was deeply connected to the matter, but in fact, they were. L, on principle, never got involved in a case unless there were more than ten victims or a million dollars at stake, and this is the real reason why he belatedly, but aggressively, involved himself in this little case, which only ever had three or four victims. I will explain further in the pages that follow, but for this reason, the case of the Los Angeles BB murders are a watershed event for L, for me, and even for Kira. It was a monumental event for all of us.  
Why?  
Because this case is where L first introduced himself as Ryuzaki.  
So let's skip past all tedious descriptions of what Beyond Birthday thought, of how he went about killing his third victim, since I have in interest in that at all, and while we're at it, let's skip the second and first victims, make no effort to look back at the earlier murders, mod adjust the clock's hands to the morning of the day after, the glittering moment when the century's greatest detective, L, first began to investigate the case. Oh, I almost forgot. In the event that anyone besides big-headed Near or that deluded murderer, Kira is reading these notes, then I should at least perform the basic courtesy of introducing myself, here at the end of the prologue. I am your narrator, your navigator, your storyteller. For anyone else my identity may be of no interest, but I am the old world's runner-up, the slick, badass, and unpredictable Michael Keehl. I once called myself Mello and was addressed by that name, but that was a long time ago.  
Good memories and nightmares.

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**So, if you can't tell, I just copy/pasted the contents of LABBMC into this and edited a few things, there WILL be more changes and you should be able to tell a distinct difference between this and the original Death Note series.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Welcome to the second chapter.**

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Page 1: The Message

While it is now referred to as the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases—a rather catchy title—when it was actually happening, right in the middle of the whirlpool, it was never called anything so impressive. The media called it the Wara Ningyo Murders, or the L.A. Serial Locked Room Killings, or all kinds of other ghastly, grisley, or outright stupid names. This fact was undoubtedly a source of great annoyance to Beyond Birthday (What were his parents thinking when they named him that?)—the perpetrator of the murders in question—but frankly, I think those names provide a more accurate description of what was actually happening. Either way, the day after Beyond Birthday carried out the third of the murders, August 14, 2002, 8:15 am, local time, the FBI agent Naomi Misora was lying dazedly on the bed in her apartment, having just woken up. She was wearing dark leather pants and a matching leather jacket, but it would be a mistake to assume she customarily slept in this outfit. She had spent several hours racing around on her motorcycle the night before, in a vain effort to burn off stress, and when she finally returned to her apartment she had fallen instantly into a sound slumber without bothering to shower or undress. Much like the name of the case, Misora has now entered the public consciousness as the one who eventually cracked the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases, but the truth is that when these events were unfolding in real time, she had been suspended from her duties as an FBI agent. According to the official records she was just on a leave of absence, but this is purely because she had absolutely no ability whatsoever to stand up to the pressure from her superiors and colleagues. Suspension, leave, summer vacation. I don't think we need to go into the reasons for her suspension here. What is certain is that this was America, she was Japanese, female, very good at her job, and the FBI is a large organization... which ought to be enough information. Obviously, she did have colleagues who had a high opinion of her, which is exactly why she had been able to work in the organization so far, but a month before, just before the Los Angeles BB murders, Misora had made a major blunder, so major even she could not believe it—which led directly to her current situation. This was not the kind of problem that could be alleviated by racing around in the middle of the night on a motorcycle.  
Misora was seriously considering quitting the FBI, casting off her entire life, and moving to Japan and getting a job at the NPA, or maybe as a security consultant or something. Obviously, part of her was sick and tired of all the nonsense that came with the job, but even more than that was the guilt she felt over her own mistake, which hung upon her shoulders like a dead weight. Even if there had been no pressure from those around her—not that this hypothetical was even remotely possible—Misora would have asked for time off herself.  
Or even resigned.  
Misora slowly peeled herself off the bed, intending to shower away the sweat of the night before, but then she noticed the laptop on her desk was, for some reason, turned on. She had no recollection of turning it on—after all, she had just woken up. Had she hit the switch on her way in last night? And then fallen asleep without shutting it down again? She didn't remember doing that, but since the screen saver was working, there seemed to be no other explanation. One would assume that if she had enough energy left to turn on her computer, she would have had enough energy to undress. Misora peeled off her jacket and pants, and with her body feeling much lighter, got off the bed, moved over to her desk, and jiggled the mouse. This was enough to clear the screen saver, but at this point Misora became even more confused. The main e-mail program was running and flashing a "new mail" message. It was possible she'd fallen asleep with her computer on, but to fall asleep in the middle of checking her e-mail? While she was still wondering about that, she clicked on her inbox. There was one new message, from Raye Penber. This was the name of Misora's current boyfriend, also an FBI agent. He was the most obvious example of the agents who had a high opinion of her (not that this stopped him from begging her to transfer to a less dangerous department every time something happened). Since her leave was almost over, this might well be just business, so Misora went ahead and opened the message...  
To Naomi Misora,  
I apologize for contacting you like this.  
I would like to request your help in solving a certain case.  
If you are willing to assist me, please access the third block of the third section of the Funny Dish server on August 14th at nine am. The line will be open for exactly five minutes (please break through the firewall yourself).  
L  
PS: In order to contact you, I took the liberty of borrowing your friend's address. This was the simplest and safest way to contact you, so please forgive me. Regardless of whether you agree to help me or not, I need you to destroy this computer within twenty-four hours of reading this message.  
When she finished reading, Misora immediately reread the entire message and finally checked the sender's name again.  
L.  
She might be suspended, but she was still an FBI agent, and obviously she recognized the name—it would have been unforgivable had she not. She briefly considered the idea that Raye Penber, or someone else, was playing a practical joke on her, but she found it hard to believe anyone would be so bold to sign their name as such. L never revealed himself in public or in private, but Misora had heard several horror stories about what had happened to detectives who had tried passing themselves off as L. It was safe to say that no one would dare use his name, even in jest.  
So.  
"Aw, damn," she grumbled, and proceeded to take her shower, washing away the exhaustion of the night before. She dried her long black hair and drank a cup of hot coffee.  
But she was only pretending to consider the matter—she did not really have a choice. No FBI agent, particularly a low-ranking one, could ever consider turning down a request from L. But at this time Misora did not have a particularly favorable opinion of the great detective L, so she had to pretend to hesitate, if only to make herself feel better. If you consider Misora's personality, the reasons for this are clear. It seemed obvious that the reason her laptop had been turned on was that L had hacked it, and she was more than a little depressed that she would now have to randomly destroy the new computer she had just purchased a month before.  
"I don't mind… I mean, I do, but..."  
She didn't have a choice.  
At just past 8:50, Misora sat down in front of her laptop, which now had less than twenty three hours left to live, and began following L's instructions. She was not an expert hacker, but she had been taught the basics as part of her FBI training.  
Just as she successfully gained access to the server, her entire screen went white. Misora was momentarily alarmed, but then she noticed a giant calligraphic L floating in the center of the screen, and relaxed.  
"Naomi Misora," came a voice from the laptop speakers, after a brief pause. It was obviously a synthetic voice. But this was the voice recognized as L's by every investigative department in the world. Misora had heard it several times before—but this was the first time it had ever addressed her directly It felt weird, like she was hearing her name on TV—not that she had ever had that experience, but this was what she imagined it would be like.  
"This is L."  
"Hi," Misora started to say, but then realized how pointless that was. Her laptop did not have a microphone installed, and there was no way for him to hear her.  
Instead, she typed in, "This is Naomi Misora. It's an honor to speak to you, L." If her connection was sound, he should be able to receive this.  
"Naomi Misora, are you familiar with the murder investigation going on in Los Angeles as we speak?"  
L got right down to business, without acknowledging her words at all. Presumably this was because he had to complete this communication by 9:05, but his manner and attitude rubbed Misora the wrong way Like it was a given that she would cooperate with him— which was true, but acting like it showed no respect for her pride. Misora allowed herself to bang on the keyboard rather loudly  
"I am not so skilled that I can keep track of all the murder investigations happening in Los Angeles."  
"Oh? I am."  
He'd returned her sarcasm with a boast.  
L continued, "I'm referring to the serial killings—-the third victim was found yesterday. I believe there will be more victims to come. CNN is calling it the Wara Ningyo Murders."  
"The Wara Ningyo Murders?"  
She had not heard about it. She was on leave and had been deliberately avoiding that kind of news. Misora had lived in Japan until she graduated high school and was familiar with the term, but hearing it pronounced in English gave it an edge of unfamiliarity.  
"I would like to solve this case," L said. "I need to arrest the killer. But your help in this matter is vital, Naomi Misora."  
"Why me?" she typed. This could be taken to mean either "Why do you need my help?" or "Why should I help you?" but L took the first meaning without a moment's hesitation. Sarcasm appeared to be lost on him.  
"Naturally, because you are a skilled investigator, Naomi Misora."  
"I'm on a leave of absence..."  
"I know. Isn't that convenient?"  
Three victims, he'd said.  
Obviously, it depended on the victims, but from what L had told her this case had not yet reached the kind of scale required for the FBI to get involved. She would normally have assumed that this was why he had approached her instead of going through the FBI director, but this was much too sudden. And she had been given almost no time to think things through. But it had been enough time for her to wonder why L would be involved in a case too small for the FBI to notice. She did not imagine he would answer that question over her computer, however.

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**So, as you might be able to tell, there are further changes to the story, mainly in real-world references.**


End file.
